


Fingers crossed

by orphan_account



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Blood and Gore, Friendship, M/M, Slow Burn, happy ending??, maybe ;)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28239972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: George thought the worst day of his life was ten years ago standing under the glowing light of a lantern outside of a manner he’d never truly leave.This was so much worse—————————————The hunger games were never meant to touch him, it was meant to be a part of his life that he blocked out the next day and didn’t think about until the next year when the fear would claw at his chest.He probably wouldn’t have another year to forget this time though.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Kudos: 8





	Fingers crossed

The woods were calm, they were always calm in the beginning. The trees stretched out for what seemed like forever, only letting in small cracks of sunlight from the gaps in the dense leaves, it was honestly quite nice. The only part of the forest that seemed… odd was the deathly quiet that surrounded George completely. It choked him, made him want to gasp for air even though there was plenty of it, George had always hated too much quiet.  
However, it was only a matter of time until the fickle silence was fractured, he would be here soon. George didn’t know who he was, what he looked like or even if he was human only that he’d appear every single night and chase him until George couldn’t run any further.

The forest was always perfect until the cracks started to form.

But when he finally heard the crack of approaching footsteps creep up behind him George whipped round, the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears he saw the figure standing less than four feet away from him. Every nerve in George's body was gearing up to run, sprint far far away until he finally woke up as far away from the forest as possible until the next time he laid down to sleep. But he hesitated, instead of running at him, shadowy blurred arms outstretched aiming for Georges neck the figure was just standing, staring.   
‘ok this is the time to go now George, get away, its clearly not right this is perfect-‘George thought taking two careful steps backwards, the echoing sound of his breathing reflecting off of the mass of trees around him.

And yet the figure only took two tentative steps towards him, the shadowy mass that might be its head staring right into George's eyes and its hands (?) gripping the outline of a hulking axe with trembling limbs. ‘was it scared? Why the hell would it be scared? I’m not exactly a threat and it must have killed me hundreds of times by now so why..’ George pondered shuffling away drawing his arms up over his chest and biting his lip, there was no way this would turn out well, she should run, sprint away until the figure was so far away he could even pretend it wasn’t there-.

“Who are you?” the figure croaked out, George felt himself jump about a mile, oh now it wants to know who he is after killing him again and again it was now interested? Yeah, no George was no genius, but he wasn’t stupid, this was just another way his subconsciousness could get to him, play with him well it wouldn’t work this time.

Even as George was telling himself this he still felt the familiar feeling of fear clawing at his chest, whispering promises of terror into his ear. It felt far too familiar for Georges personal liking but there was nothing he could do.   
There never was.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
George woke up with a shuddering gasp as the forest vanished around him, being replaced by the harsh noise of his alarm and of the other boys getting up for the day, angry swearing combined with the sound of crackling limbs. He pulled himself up with a groan running a hand through his hair feeling the sweat that decorated his forehead, the only thought echoing around his mind being the remnants of fear and the figures nervous rasp and the chorus of ‘what the fuck was that.’ 

So, the story goes like this. When George was five years old his parents dropped him off outside the community orphanage as he cried his eyes out. They kissed him softly on his forehead and his father gave him a huge and tapped him once on the forehead lightly before stepping out of the shallow glow the lanterns provided and into the darkness that consumed them almost instantly.   
That was the last time George ever saw his parents.

He later found out that they were rebels, figures that operated in the shadows to strike back against the capitals hold on its citizens, to ‘make a difference and pave a batter path to the future.’ That’s all well and good but George had never forgiven them for it, besides it's not exactly like they’d made much of a difference, call him ungrateful but then again they did leave him at an orphanage. 

He could joke about it now but honestly, in the first couple of months after they had abandoned him to its oppressive hallways and bleak atmosphere George had snuck down to sit by the front door; completely convinced that they would appear in the doorway and take his hand to lead him away from the home. Of course, this never happened but it seemed like it would for a while.

The home wasn’t that bad objectively, he never had to enter his name in the games more than once a year and he never starved. That didn’t make the complete lack of familial love seem like any less of a void in his heart, but it did help him stay alive for a grand total of 16 years now and really that was more than most people could say. Because, once a year for the last sixty years 24 children would be picked at random (or so they said) and sent off to fight in the hunger games for entertainment where only one person could survive. 

Only two years ago a friend of his, techno was sent off to the games and fought his way to a bloody win. Techno always had been a prodigy, someone all the boys looked up to but after he came back he was… different. Damaged. George couldn’t blame him, if he had to fight to the death for the right to live at the age of 15 he would never have been able to muster up the urge to ever speak again. 

After every yearly reaping, where the doomed 24’s names would be drawn, George would put the nerves into the back of his mind in a tiny box where it couldn’t rear its head for another year when it returned in full force. And just as George started to wake up the overwhelming fear of the games crept back over him, today was that day. 

Today was reaping day.

Watching the rest of his dormmates put on their freshly ironed white shirts, their best clothes for reaping day, made the situation all the more real. Until the actual day George would forget, forget about the prospect that had haunted him for four years now and focus on other things; where to work for the day, what chores he had to do around the manner or maybe if he could sneak out to try and see some of his friends. But seeing his normally loud expressive dormmates put on their best clothes somberly, exchanging no jokes about the younger boys’ tears as they hid as close to the walls as possible just made everything worse.

Time seemed to blur together as he trapsed through the industrial streets of district six, its huge steel industrial buildings boxing him in far more than the peacekeepers would. Running away was a stupid plan for fools, where would he run to? A factory building the intricate transport systems the capital demanded? Or maybe towards the iron fence that neatly boxed in district six. They did love their symmetrical designs here and normally so did George, it provided structure to his mind that normally ran so wild that structure sounded like fantasy. 

Approaching the town square felt exactly like it did last year, final. Being fielded into the areas set out for kids eligible for the reaping felt oddly nostalgic ‘Back again, did you miss me?’ George wondered eyes trained firmly on the massive stage constructed overnight for the reaping. He had no idea how they did it every year, just yesterday George had walked here on his way to buy the months grain rations for the home with no stage in sight, just the same old cracked concrete tiles and dusty coating of sand that always blew into the square around this time of year. These were still here but the stage was definitely new. 

All thoughts of the shadowy figures words from his dream vanished as the Capital’s lapdog- mascot walked on the stage with an excited flourish, the woman’s dull yellow hair sitting at her waist (though it could have been green, George couldn’t actually tell) and her heavy dress trailing behind her like a confused dog with such a excited smile plastered to her face she genuinely looked as though she’d just won the lottery. 

Overall, the complete opposite to the dreary scenery and terrified faces of the kids surrounding him. Some had faces set in straight lines, determined to look as calm as possible so that if they didn’t get picked they could brag to their friends later ‘Dude of course I wasn’t scared, it would never pick me obviously’ George felt himself scoff, yeah right, if their name got called they’d be just as terrified as the rest of them.

Behind the Capital’s mascot, Jade, Techno stood rigidly a mask covering most of his face hiding his thoughts of the whole event. Since Techno was a victor he was required to mentor all tributes reaped until one of district sixes tributed finally won and succeeded him. George hoped for his sake that that was soon, even from George's distance away from the stage he could see how gaunt Techno’s cheeks were and he was pretty sure the games had something to do with it. 

Techno had won his games with the highest number of personal kills ever recorded in a game, he had single handedly killed nine of the twenty four tributes making him a capital favourite ever since. Hopefully with that kind of skill Techno would make a pretty good mentor, at least he did if you had it in you to kill that many kids (George wasn’t really sure if he did but with no choice who knew what would happen.)

“Let’s do the boys first shall we?” Jade trilled happily from her position up on the stage, strutting towards the clear fish tank that held George's name a total of five times. She clapped her hands cheerily making George scowl before reaching with her neon pink nails in to grab a name, hand dancing over almost all the thin slips of paper teasingly then as she began to lift a single slip of paper out of the bowl the seconds slowed down.

Time stilled down making every second stretch out into what felt like honest to God months. The slight breeze vanished, and he could only feel the blazing sunlight dance across his skin, burning him. And he was powerless to resist. The sweaty mass of bodies closed in around him suddenly felt suffocating and their nervous breathing deafening. 

George crossed his fingers behind his back, a habit he picked up whenever he needed luck as a child. Images flashed through his mind; fingers held behind his back as he sat at the front door the night after his parents left, fingers crossed as he clasped one hand over his mouth so the patrolling peacekeeper wouldn’t find him out after curfew, fingers crossed every single year for four years now waiting in this exact spot for this moment to pass, to be over, to forget about until the next year when it all came rushing back again, like he’d do tomorrow waking up in bed the previous day forgotten-

“The male tribute from district six is George Drewson”

The worst moment of George's life was followed by silence. Faces turned towards him with fear, relief, sympathy but George couldn’t see any of it. His ears were ringing, body disconnected as he took slow steps towards the stage, peacekeepers keeping a firm hold on his shoulders after he stepped out of the masses. 

No one would volunteer for him, he had friends but not that kind of friends not ones that would die for him. The world stopped showing colour. All he could see was a mass of yellow as though his eyes were blurry with tears, but he couldn’t cry even if he wanted to. Vaguely George remembered that showing any sign of weakness from now on could be his downfall, so schooled his face into a blank line as he stepped up the stairs to the stage. 

Stepping onto the stage he was met by an enthusiastic handshake from Jade, her nails digging into the skin on his palm as though he’d just won a great prize, an honour instead of a death sentence. Because George was going to die, he wasn’t like Techno. He wasn’t a fighter and was dead from the moment jade had gripped that slip of paper. From the corner of his eye, he saw Techno send him a sad nod, not trying to pretend that this meant glory or victory George was suddenly very glad he couldn’t see his eyes. 

Besides him Jade read out the female tribute, a hefty girl of his own age, 16. She was crying before she’d even reached the stage, George couldn’t say he’d ever really spoken to her. She was the daughter of one of the few rich families and had never demeaned herself to talking to an orphan yet alone the child of two disgraced rebels. Seeing his face on the huge screens surrounding the stage was when the world shifted back to colour, when shapes regained their form and when the world started to resume again. The fear was still there, nightmares seeming stupidly childish now. Who cared if he died in his dreams this was much, much worse. 

Vaguely he realised that his fingers were still crossed but uncrossing them would break the spell, he might still wake up or see the shadowy figure step out behind one of the screens to attack him. Frantically he actually started wishing for it, anything to prove this wasn’t real that nothing had changed. 

But it had.

And as George started out at the crowd of faces of district six that he would never see again.

George vaguely realised that this was the new worst day of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> So my first contribution to this fandom is started! This is of course based on the content creators online personas and in no war related to their actual selves, it will be taken down if their uncomfortable. 
> 
> Honestly this was super fun to write and I have so many ideas of where I want to go with this fic.  
> Thanks for reading, drop a comment to tell me your thoughts!


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